F*cking Frustrated!

So ya know yesterday when I was feeling pretty good and hypomanic? Yeah, well about that…

R called and told me to come in if I felt like it as Kenny would not be there. I felt good and thought okay, I can do this.

Fifteen minutes after arriving, the mood crashed and I didn’t want to be there. Because I knew my mood wasn’t level or good enough. Because now I feel like I am jumping through flaming hoops trying to keep my mood pleasant for R’s comfort. Because ya know, he did ditch me once before because of moodiness. I wasn’t a fit girlfriend because of my disorder. Now it’s starting to feel like I’m not a fit friend because of my moods. He did say “You haven’t been yourself, you’ve been distant and moody…”

WHICH IS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF BIPOLAR, YOU TWONK!

I guess he figured a few months of faking my way through the bad stuff made me cured.

Oh, sweetie, that was just the filler between prologue and epilogue. The epilogue is where I curl up in a closet crying and panicking because I can no longer handle the stress or keeping up with the expectations of people too ignorant to understand this is not my personality, it is a chemical fucking imbalance.

Unlike most, I DO know the difference.

Rebellious streak-personality. Sarcasm-personality. More affection for animals than people. Personality.

Oh but I take meds, so much like Tylenol making a headache go away, my meds should make the mood swings completely disappear.

I am frustrated being surrounded by people who are so ignorant and don’t want to be any other way. I am sick of them clinging to their personality disorders while expecting everyone around them to change. I at least am aware there are things about my personality that are quirks or need work. I don’t justify alcoholism with “I work hard so I earned the right”. I don’t tell someone else about being moody, meanwhile something went wrong so I am tossing power supply boards on the floor and punching walls. (He did that the other day.)

Another one of my “annoying” personality quirks is that my mentality is QUID PRO QUO.

You want me to recognize when I am being a bitch? Try taking a look in the mirror and realizing what an utter ass you can be at times. Crazy talk, you say? Then you deserve my attitude and wrath. You EARNED it!

Oh..and yesterday’s “wow, why do I even bother?” moment…Some guy went bonkers in a town 20 miles from here, shot 5 people, including a 1 year old girl. Now they’ve released that he was bipolar and off his meds. So of course R looks at me and asks, “Is that what’s going to happen to you eventually?”

Oh, that’s hilarious.

He wasn’t joking, though. His first wife has borderline personality disorder, which he thinks is the exact same as bipolar, and no matter how many times I have corrected him, it doesn’t matter. So because she was violent, and this guy went nutso and happened to be bipolar…well, birds of a feather…

Fuck you.

What pisses me off further is being told I am mean and twisted because I like cheesy 80’s horror flicks, skulls, and coffins, yet he and Kenny sit there watching Youtube videos of people doing stupid shit that results in bones poking out of skin, blood, gore, et al…And they laugh like it’s the funniest thing ever. To me, that is sick. Because I get NOTHING out of watching people get injured. I am not sadistic. Even my worst enemies I don’t wish physical harm on.

So maybe I’m not the twisted one here, I’m just the one with enough remorse about past behavior and enough insecurity for them to sway the focus onto me away from themselves. I know it in my gut, I know I will never please them and the more I try the worse I feel…And I am nice and strong and stubborn…Until I have to go deal with them and feel like I am under a microscope every second, lest my mood shift and I glare and they assume it’s all about them…

I’m just over the interacting with others thing. Personality disorder? Perhaps. But managing the bipolar and anxiety not just for myself, but for the comfort of others around me, is exhausting. I keep thinking if any of these people cared for me beyond what I can do to make their life easier, they’d at least try to learn about my disorder, try to hear me out and let me explain it.

The other day, R was telling someone the story of our first date. Yeah, back when I tried to explain my panic disorder to him and he laughed it off then took me to a packed gambling boat. “She went in looking perfect, gorgeous, then ten minutes in, she ran off to the bathroom and came back looking like a train wreck…We went outside and she leaned over the side of the boat…and threw up some more.” Tee hee heee. 14 years ago but hearing about it never gets old. I TOLD him I couldn’t handle that many people with any grace.

For awhile, I thought it was cool being friends with someone I had a history with, because we have our own inside jokes and all.

Now…When it’s just a rehash of my not so greatest hits and reminders of what I was like prior proper diagnosis and meds…It’s actually pretty depressing. I feel like I need to escape, abandon ship, so to speak…Get away before I end up even more psychologically damaged. Because while I steadfastedly stick to traits I like- being macabre, being sarcastic, liking the music, shows, movies, etc that I like…When it comes to the moods and bipolar and anxiety stuff…I know it’s all wonky and I know it’s difficult to handle, and I want to not be difficult. I want desperately to be simple and fun.

But I don’t think that’s who I ever was or will be.

Now…sorry for the long rant, but I really needed to purge all that was weighing down my mind.

I’m gonna see if I can muster up the motivation to shower and go to the shop.